


Don't Want No Trouble

by Spudato



Category: RWBY
Genre: Catches Them So Hard, F/F, Implied Sexual Content, Velvet Catches Feelings, nb!blake
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-29
Updated: 2017-07-29
Packaged: 2018-12-08 06:55:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11641296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spudato/pseuds/Spudato
Summary: Velvet really doesn't want to start any commotion tonight, which is why she's drinking alone in a bar nobody knows about. So, naturally, that's when a commotion walks in with a nice set of shoulders and gorgeous amber eyes.Alright. Just this once, she'll bite.





	Don't Want No Trouble

Velvet Scarlatina is the master of making mistakes, and it’s not a title she’s willing to lose so easily.

Okay, well, that’s not strictly true - she’d rather be the master of sleeping in, or the master of binging entire seasons of her favourite TV shows. But if she’s not the master of mistakes then she’s _pretty_ sure she’s got nothing left, so she’ll take what she can.

Still, Velvet tries to keep out of trouble. _Tries_. Really! It just seems that when trouble’s in town the first thing it asks for is her name. She’s been in five fistfights since the start of the year and not only is it _only_ April, but she only picked like one of those! The other four saw her ducking the first swing with the fear of the Maidens prickling between her shoulderblades. So yeah, trouble and Velvet (and  _mistakes_ and Velvet) go together like two pieces of a jigsaw and it’s still not her damn fault.

Which is why she’s in the farthest corner of the most low-key bar in the industrial district of Vale, sitting alone and drinking alone because she does _not_ trust her friends not to egg her on if something happens. Which something always invariably does, so it’s best to be prepared. She’s also alone because some nights she can’t be fucked dealing with people in general. Not their fault - Velvet just has a limit to how much she can navigate conversations and situations and when it runs out, she has to bail. Maybe it’s weird, but she thinks it’s just because of how she grew up in Menagerie. The family home had been out in the middle of fuck-all, so whenever she needed that time alone all Velvet had to do was put some boots on and trek in a straight line for twenty minutes. Out there, there wasn’t even the vaguest hint of civilisation. It had provided invaluable time to think.

Vale’s not the same. It’s noisy day and night, every damn day. It’s hard to find that gap between where Velvet can slide in and just be herself, to find that eye of the storm where shit is just _chill_. But that’s way too much to ask for a graduated Huntress, apparently, ‘cause if Velvet’s not out with CFY or whoever she meets on her travels chasing Grimm down with nothing but her bare fists, then trouble shows up and mistakes are made- so on, so forth.

So it’s in the bar that Velvet’s debating where she could have better spent her downtime - not this downtime specifically, but her overall weeks between contracts. She could’ve gone back to Menagerie, or maybe wandered Vacuo and got a tan, or pursued some side-work in Mistral… but she always comes back to Vale, in the end. She likes to offer a helping hand to the Faunus here anyway, who have to sit on the fence between _acceptance_ or _dislike_ from the humans. Velvet’s felt it firsthand, and honestly? She’d prefer everyone around her outright hating her guts than making her walk on eggshells until she can figure out if they wish she were deported or not. Not that it matters - she’s has a Hunter’s license, which means she’s kind of a citizen of anywhere she damn well pleases. Which is nice. Point being, she likes it when people are predictable.

Anyway, Velvet’s drinking and people-watching and she’s watching the human patrons especially closely - again, not _trying_ to pick a fight, but if some human bastard tries starting shit with any of the Faunus in here they’ll be hearing from her  - when Blake Belladonna walks in.

It shouldn’t be a surprise, not really. Blake’s a Huntress too, and Velvet knows damn well that they operate out of Vale. So do the rest of RWBY, and Velvet sees them often enough to confirm it whenever she’s in town too. So, really, it _shouldn’t_ be surprising... but it’s the fact that the bar is _so_ out of the way and it’s also _so_ unlike Blake to go to a bar at all (on their own to boot) that a little thing about trouble and mistakes and Velvet attracting all of the above sorta floats about again.

Just what the in the hells was Blake doing here?

The people-watching intensifies from there, though it’s mostly just _person-watching_. Blake attracts the attention of the bartender (and most of the other patrons, because Blake’s really nailed that androgynous gorgeousness that means everyone, no matter their gender, is automatically into them), and they stand at the bar rather than sit. Blake’s always been like that, always sort of ready to flee and they never quite relax in unfamiliar places, but Velvet can relate to that too. She watches as they look about the bar, reading the notice boards and keeping a close eye on all the little details, and Velvet’s kinda glad her seat is set back a little behind the bar so she can make out their face. They must be twenty-four now (sorry, twenty-three, Velvet always forgets RWBY are a year younger because they were so close in Beacon that Velvet just figured they were the same age), and they look pretty damn grown. That said, Blake totally looked so much older as a first-year too - something about the gauntness of cheeks and the way their looks were so cutting. Velvet saw that stuff on Hunters three times their age, not on some scrappy seventeen year old who were trying their hardest to pretend to be something they weren’t. Still, now they just look… well, Velvet can’t quite place the word, but ‘ _mature_ ’ absolutely pops to mind. Along with, uh, ‘ _hot as fuck_ ’ and a worrying imitation of Coco’s voice just going ‘ _daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaamn_ ’.

Velvet’s pretty gay. She’s also pretty single (unless you count the occasional reunion “snuggle” with the rest of CFY to be _something_ , but Velvet’s pretty sure it doesn’t) so, yeah, she’s looking at Blake and Blake’s not looking at her and Velvet’s _just_ considering waving them over when Blake’s yellow eyes drift a little too close and they spot her. She must look like a weird cider gremlin, sat in the darkest corner with two empty bottles and a third half full, but that doesn’t stop a slow grin from growing across Blake’s face. Not a second later the bartender returns with their drink - a dark stout in a slender cylindrical glass - and they pull away from the bar, disappearing amongst the throng of patrons until they reappear a second later, advancing towards Velvet with a _thud thud thud_ of heavy boots onto the wooden floor.

They’re kinda intimidating, actually, dressed in familiar shadowy tones and in a trenchcoat the colour of pitch that really broadens out those shoulders. But their grin dispels it all, stopping a pace away with one hand sort of half-raised in a wave.

“Hey, Velvet,” they start, and then they seem to notice Velvet’s very obviously alone, and their smile drops a few molars. “Is this seat free or... uh- can I sit with you? Or, would you like to be alone, or, like, not?”

Nevermind. Blake’s about as intimidating as a newborn deer, some days. “Of course you can, idiot.” Then, Velvet holds out a fist. “Gotta pay the toll, though.”

Blake’s grin returns, twice as bright, as they fistbump her before sliding into the seat opposite Velvet. “Nice.”

The silence that falls between them is _nearly_ awkward, but not quite. That’s mostly because Blake takes the chance to take a sip, nodding to themself like it’s passed their personal inspection, and then they start shrugging out of their coat and- oh, wow, they’re showing off those shoulders tonight, huh?

“Didn’t know you hung around these parts, Velv.” Velvet’s glad for the use of the nickname right off the damn bat. It’d be so weird if they had to pretend to be those awkward sort of semi-demi-acquaintance things because, _dude_ , they’ve risked their lives for each other at least three times since graduation. They’re way past that by now.

“Not really - change of pace, kinda?” Velvet shrugs as she takes a sip and something about the way Blake bobs their head in a cant says yeah, they’ve been there too.

“Are you living in Vale right now? Every time Ruby or Yang see you they tell me you’re planning on running off somewhere else.” The last part is said with a smile so it’s not really meant to be a jab, and Velvet just shrugs again.

“For now, yeah. I have a little place I stay in when I’m hanging out around here.”

“Working?”

“Right now? Nah, I’m on downtime ‘tween contracts. Just wanted to come back to Vale for a while.” Sometimes it’s just nice to touch with your hunting roots again, too. Velvet’s bled on and for this city, watching Beacon fall and be rebuilt. Menagerie might be home, but Vale is a part of Velvet now. “What about you?”

Rolling their shoulders in a way that should be illegal, Blake doesn’t seem to mind that Velvet suddenly has to down another gulp of cider. “Just got back from a team contract this morning. Took a shower and a nap, and then I just… took a walk. Stumbled right into this place. And you.”

Blake always speaks in such succinct sentences. Velvet’s kind of jealous. “Damn lucky then, ‘cause I meant it when I said I don’t usually come here. Looks like we just wandered right into each other.”

“Nice,” Blake repeats, and they take another sip.

There’s a quiet then, but it’s the good kind. It hasn’t been _that_ long since they last saw each other, really - maybe two months? Maybe a little less. Lately, the days have been blurring together. Velvet’s just getting older, probably.

Some rowdy lads come in and Velvet sighs when the low mumble of noise rises in volume, and Blake’s much the same. They finish their drinks in tandem and Velvet’s mulling over getting another when Blake speaks up again, having to raise their voice over the sound.

“Wanna take a walk with me?”

Velvet’s tempted to say _that’s gay_ \- for no real reason, honestly, it just feels like something she should say - but instead she nods and they get up, Blake grabbing their coat and Velvet shrugging on a hoodie that has the Menagerie flag stitched onto the back for everyone to see. They slide on out before the noise can ramp up any higher, Blake offering a curt little salute to the bartender before they bail, and once they’re outside Velvet breathes in deep. It all smells like petrol and metal and chemicals in the industrial district, but it still smells better than the inside of the bar. Just within the doors the boys whoop loudly and Velvet’s glad it’s muffled.

Blake’s putting on their trenchcoat again, shaping a tall, wiry body into a mere silhouette, but their eyes are bright and glimmer from the moonlight in a greenish white. “Where do you live?”

Oh _man_. Velvet hasn’t been asked that on her way out of a bar in a while. “That’s gay,” she states, and then, “I’ll lead the way? It’s, like, commercial district. Not far from Beacon?”

Blake’s arm moves and Velvet doesn’t realise they’re holding an arm out for her to take until a second too late, and Blake’s _just_ about to say something when she strides forwards and winds an arm around theirs.

“I was about to say you weren’t letting me be much of a gentleman, huh?” Blake still teases anyway, and Velvet huffs.

“Maybe if I could tell apart your arm from the rest of you I would’ve realised what you were even doing.”

They just laugh, and Velvet starts to lead the way just as she said she would. It’s a bit of a hike to get home and Velvet’s wondering _exactly_ how Blake managed to walk all the way here from… wherever the hells RWBY lived these days. Rumour said their first two places had seen the landlords kick them out, and the third had met an unexpected end at the hands of some remaining agents of Salem. Maidens knew where they’d ended up now.

Well. No better time to ask, Velvet supposes. “So, where’s RWBY living now?”

Blake makes a face. Oh boy. “We’re tucked right up by the Beacon cliffs. Fourth home the charm ‘n’ all. Only, we actually own this one this time, since it’s for the best, really. And it’s not like any of us are planning on moving away anyway. Vale’s stuck with us.”

Squeezing their arm, Velvet sidles up a little closer. “Well, if any of you _did_ want a holiday or something, I’ve got places all around. Got a home in Vale, one in Vacuo… got my parent’s place in Menagerie, obviously, and _everyone’s_ welcome there. Even Weiss.” Blake snorts. “And I’m negotiating for a nice home in Mistral. CFVY and contracts in Mistral go together like jelly and ice cream, so I figured it’d be worth investing in a nice spot.”

When Blake doesn’t reply, Velvet peeks at their face to see them raising a thick brow. “For some reason, I took you to be… hm, more frugal? Seems like you just _have_ a lot.”

Rolling her eyes and slugging their arm, Velvet just shrugs. She seems to be doing that a lot, lately. “I am, kinda. I just don’t like having to go to hotels every time I’m travelling, and like… I dunno. I travel around a lot. Pick up a lot of solo stuff. And I don’t sleep well in hotels. And these places aren’t, like, _expensive_.” And, and, and. Velvet needs to start stringing her sentences together better. “So yeah. That’s all, really. Guess I’m just a nomadic homebody.” After all, nothing really sums up Velvet as much as an oxymoron.

There’s silence for a while then, as they cross the long bridge over from industrial into residential. There’s not many people out and about right now, the night air cool as the midnight hour comes closer to ticking over, and the lights on the still water of the river are so pretty that Velvet mistakes half of them for stars until she manages to blink the illusion away.

It’s not until they’re deep into the heart of residential, walking past three-storey homes and beneath the white lights of streetlamps that Blake speaks up again. “You sound like such an adult.”

Velvet feels affronted for some reason. She is certainly not an adult. She stills wakes up early on Saturdays just to watch cartoons in her pyjamas. Which is a very not-adult thing to do, professional Grimm hunter or not. “How so?”

Blake’s grin is rivalling the lights above them. “Like, you own loads of homes in other continents like it’s no big deal. You travel all the time. You go on dangerous team missions with CFVY and then go out on a ton of solo missions and then act like _that’s_ no big deal. When Ruby does that all of us worry sick.”

Velvet blushes, and then she shrugs. _Again_. She doesn’t really think of it as much of a big deal, not really. It’s mostly because she’s that self-affirmed troublemaker and _man_ do her parents worry about her. Even if she kills a hundred-thousand Grimm they’ll still phone her asking if she wants to come home for a long weekend every two weeks, but having all this _stuff -_ all these houses that _she_ owns and all these completed mission stats that _she_ obtained makes her feel like she’s made it. She fought off all the people who said she couldn’t and now everything’s real. Velvet Scarlatina is a _success_.

She wonders if that’s stupid, so she tells Blake. They just laugh again, and they pull their arm from hers to wrap it around her shoulders. “ _Velv_. That _is_ success. I mean, to do all this you’ve got to be making bank, right?”

Velvet might only be twenty-four, but even Yatsu’s said if she keeps up her pace she’ll be able to retire in comfort by the time she’s thirty. “I’m a hard worker! Mama never liked a slacker!”

This time, Blake literally has to stop because they’re laughing so hard, and Velvet’s laughing too because, fuck her, it _is_ kinda ridiculous.

When Blake’s able to gather themself again, they just give Velvet this dopey sort of look that makes her heart sort of weirdly skip a beat. It’s cute! What can she say? “I mean, we _are_ Faunus. Maidens know we have to work twice as hard as anyone else to get anywhere at all.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me.” Velvet loops an arm with Blake’s again, tutting all the while. “I’m lucky I’m getting a reputation, else the contracts in Atlas would _never_ take me on.”

“Word.”

It’s probably been a longer trip to get to Velvet’s than it would RWBY’s place, but Velvet has _no clue_ what Blake’s planning for when they get there so privacy is probably best. Blake doesn’t say anything though, even as they cross a second bridge over into commercial territory, and from there it’s only two quick rights and a left before Velvet’s unlocking the door into a once-warehouse. An ex-warehouse. Whatever it was, it was dirt cheap and Velvet likes a good fixer-upper. It gives her something to do in her spare time when she’s not lazing around trying to become one with her mattress.

Once the door’s open Velvet flicks on the lights,  revealing the open-plan kitchen and lounge as well as the door into the bathroom on the far end. There’s stairs upwards into the mezzanine that’s her bedroom, but there’s pretty much no walls to anything save for the bathroom and part of the kitchen. It took a while to get the place looking as good as it does, though the walls could stand for another lick of paint and she really needs to replace the shitty old boiler, but it’s her home. Well, one of them at least, but this is probably her favourite anyway. “Here we are.”

Blake whistles, shutting the door behind them. They nearly step forwards before they stop themself, undoing some complicated knotting so they can kick their dark leather boots off. Velvet’s never really needed to ask people to take their shoes off when most of the floor is stone and wood, but she appreciates the thought.

Once the boots are off, Blake takes their coat off too, tossing it lightly onto the back of one of the “reclaimed” sofas Velvet managed to get her hands on. “This is a really nice place, Velv. You do most of this yourself?”

“Is it that obvious?” Velvet jokes, although she has to follow up quickly when Blake looks worried. “Yeah, dude. This was just some empty warehouse when I got it - this was one of the first places I bought, actually.” Velvet can’t remember why, even. She just liked it, and reclaimed architecture is kinda cool to her. “Wanna… sit, or something? I’ve got more drinks in the fridge, although I mostly just drink cider or, like, whiskey if it’s the dead of winter.”

Blake stares at her, in a way that makes Velvet feel a little uncomfortable, and then they smile again - something slow and genuine, just like in the bar, like they’re seeing her for the first time all over again. “You’re weird.”

Why was Blake like this? _“What?”_

Blake pads closer, distracting Velvet with those _damn_ shoulders again (although there’s a sway to their hips that’s leaving Velvet’s mouth drier than before) and they reach forwards, haltingly, until Velvet steps into their arms. “Like… I dunno. You’re full of surprises. You’re never how I expect you to be?” There’s a kiss planted right between her ears then, and Blake takes in a breath like they’re trying to commit her smell to memory or something. “It’s nice. And weird. Weird nice.”

Entertainingly, Coco’s said the same sort of thing before - Velvet’s always been the team wildcard, ready to pull a variety of weapons from her box or strategies right out of her ass. She was adaptable, what else could she say? The world was ready to throw shit at Velvet and she was all but ready to hurl it right back, to give as good as she got. Sticking by the same rules every time didn’t really work - you had to think on your feet, make sure there’s always an escape route in easy reach or a weapon in hand. Maybe it meant she was hard to pin down, but wasn’t life more fun when you didn’t know what was going to happen next?

She’s distracted, though, because Blake’s hands slide up to trace her jawline, tilting her head up so their next kiss just tickles her forehead. “Honestly? I’ve liked you since first year of Beacon.” They huff out a laugh, leaning back so that striking amber eyes are all Velvet can see, and she’s not complaining because holy _fuck_ those eyes do not look real. She’s never seen eyes like that before. “I’m pretty sure there was a group of us who were your biggest fans.”

Velvet blinks, and then squints. “What? Seriously? Who?”

Blake tries to hide by tucking their head into the gap between neck and shoulder, pushing the thick fabric of Velvet’s hood out of the way to press their face into the skin. “Mm, me. Ruby for sure, she was in love with your weapon. Weiss, after the battle for Beacon. _Especially_ after you chewed her out for nearly getting herself killed.”

“She deserved it,” Velvet grumbles, and then she grins when a funny thought strikes her. “She’s a bit of a masochist, huh?”

“You don’t even know the half of it.” Blake’s breath is so warm and nice and Velvet shivers when a kiss gets pressed against her neck, right against her pulse. “You know, Weiss would jump into a Grimm nest for the chance to take you out.”

Trouble, trouble, trouble. That’s all RWBY ever are, and Velvet laughs at the thought ‘cause at least trouble took the time to appear in some of its more appealing forms. “I’ll have to remember that for the next time I see her.”

Blake’s hands slide down, toying with the elastic hem at the bottom of Velvet’s hoodie before they slip beneath, finding smooth skin that they immediately start exploring. Velvet’s biting back a laugh at how cute Blake is when they’re eager - they’re kissing her neck and it tickles! “So how far are we goin’ with this, huh?”

There’s a mumble that sounds suspiciously like _‘s far as you want_ , and Velvet giggles. The tank top Blake’s wearing means that Velvet can run her hands across the sculpted muscle there, and she’s wondering if Yang could give some tips on how to get this damn hench. Not to say she isn’t packing some guns, but she wouldn’t mind having back muscles this impressive, either-

Blake’s hands are wandering higher, and eventually it gets to the point that Velvet steps back long enough to pull the hoodie off - seriously, it’s _way_ too stifling for it right now - and when she meets them again she kisses them right on their gorgeous mouth. There’s a clack of teeth that makes Blake grimace and then laugh airily, but the second try is a bit better. Actually, scratch that: _way_ better. Velvet actually forgot how nice kissing is.

If Blake’s hands are wandering, hers are too. She slides a hand up the groove of their abs, making them gasp a breath when it tickles and that’s _really_ hot, okay, Velvet wants to do that again. So she does, and Blake retaliates with another kiss to her neck, only this one is _way_ more toothy and, oh, wow, okay, Velvet didn’t know she was into that but she is, apparently.

“Blake,” she groans when a series of bites trail down her shoulder. “Okay, either we get to the bed right now, or I _will_ fall over in thirty seconds.” Seriously, her legs are like jelly and it’s a nice feeling. Instead of it being because she nearly got her head snapped off by an Ursa, that is.

When Blake chuckles it’s low and smooth and sounds a thousand times more erotic than it maybe should, but those golden eyes are aglow like someone shining a candle through amber and, dammit, Velvet’s kinda in love with it. What can she say! Blake’s goddamn _gorgeous_.

“Show me where.”

And Velvet does, because she’s not gonna say no to something like that, is she? No _sir_.

 

* * *

 

So Velvet gets laid. It’s _probably_ a mistake - not in a bad way! But everyone’s lives are busy these days, and Velvet’s not a huge fan of the whole ‘friends with benefits’ type deal. It doesn’t count with CFVY! They’re just big gay losers, but Blake’s different. Blake’s someone Velvet’s always had one of those low-key crushes on that never blossomed into anything more because, spoilers, their time in Beacon was kind of a wreck. And, well, Blake sorta had a thing for Sun and also a sorta thing with _Yang_ and then those sorta came to nothing as well because, spoilers again, there was kind of a whole _war_ situation and bad times were had all ‘round.

So Velvet’s had sex with her longtime crush, pft, _whatever_ . Like it means anything! Only, it kinda does, because the next morning Blake’s curled up next to her with both arms really locked around her waist and something in Velvet’s heart is going _hey, wouldn’t it be nice to have this every day?_

Yes, it would be. Which is why when, a little while later, Blake sorta blearily stumbles into wakefulness and Velvet’s first question is, “do you wanna go on a date with me?”

Blake looks, very reasonably, confused to shit. “Uh… yeah? Sure?”

“Like… maybe one of many,” Velvet continues with a shrug, and she’s struggling to make eye contact with anything but the ceiling and walls. “As a thing. Y’know. ‘Cause I’d like to do this again.”

Velvet wonders if there’s a world in which she’s way more eloquent than this. Luckily, it doesn’t seem to bother Blake when they snort, tucking their face into the crook of her neck. “Don’t you mean do _me_ again?”

That’s exactly what she meant, and she curses, trying to pretend to be a little put-out but failing miserably when Blake hums in amusement and sends warm breath skittering across her skin. Nevermind, she’s gay! Gay and catching feelings! Dammit!

She asks one more time, though. Just to be sure. “So, maybe this weekend? Or something? Dinner, or a movie, or take-out and video games, or-”

She’s stopped when Blake props themself up on their forearms, rolling over so all their weight is on top of Velvet, and there’s a lot of bare skin and dark muscle and Velvet’s breath comes out particularly shuddery right before Blake kisses her again and again. It feels kinda decadent, honestly. Like Blake’s kisses should only be available via a seven-star restaurant in a VIP lounge on a secret menu.

“I like the sound of take-out and video games,” Blake mumbles, mouth hardly a centimeter from Velvet’s. “I’d like to just hang out with you.”

“Make-outs on the sofa?” Velvet breathlessly replies. The thought of playing games with Blake should not make her body half as warm as it’s getting but her brain’s already concocting up forfeits for bets, and most of them involving getting rid of certain articles of clothing. All of them, in fact.

“You read my mind.” Blake winks, and Velvet struggles not to melt when they kiss her again, and again, and again.

For the first time, the master of mistakes has turned this one around. Velvet doesn’t think she’ll wind up somehow making a habit of it.

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this WIP sat in my RWBY fanfic folder for a few months now! This wasn't really meant to go anywhere specific, though. I was testing out Velvet's voice (and experimenting with voices in general) and it sorta amalgamated itself into a fic... that's nearly 4,700 words long. WHOOPS.


End file.
